


Regret, Remorse; Hold On - I Got To Go

by slappedq



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, And Leo Isn't Annoyed From The Game, Blow Jobs, Cristiano Isn't Jealous, Frustration, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Magic Fingers, Sex Is A Great Solution, Wrestling, except that they totally are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 14:44:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5970799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slappedq/pseuds/slappedq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s extremely hard to just walk away from Leo when he is like this. Eyes bright with hunger and body tense with need, wound tight like a string; waiting for Cristiano to break him apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regret, Remorse; Hold On - I Got To Go

If Cristiano would have been slightly less focused on the replay of the night’s game, he would’ve maybe seen the signals.

There had been hints, oh yeah. The sharpness of his jaw line. Rigid shoulders. The despair in his eyes. I'll take a shower, he had said immediately after he got home. Leo never takes shower at home. He always showers at the stadium.

Cristiano should’ve seen these.

But his eyes were glued on the iPad in his hands, to the replay of Leo being lifted up and then pushed down on the grass. Hands on his waist, on his hair, kisses on his cheeks--

The game had ended over an hour ago, 3 – 3, Barcelona against Atletico.

He lifts his gaze when Leo enters the living room again, this time fresh from shower. His hair is almost dry already, what means that he spent more time in the shower than Cristiano realized.

"Baby," he says and lets the tablet fall from his fingers. “Come here.”

Leo paddles closer and gets on the couch, snuggling against Cristiano’s side and lifts his legs up. Cristiano gives a kiss against his temple before Leo’s head finds its place on Cristiano’s chest. Cristiano picks the iPad up again and continues to scroll through the tabloids.

Leo stays still only about five minutes before he starts to squirm against him. He turns around, changes his position, but doesn’t seem to find a good one. Cristiano says nothing, just ignores the way Leo’s elbow sticks against his ribs a few times.

Finally Leo gets up with an annoyed grunt and shuffles to the kitchen.

Cristiano takes a last sip of his beer and cringes because it’s warm already. “Bring some orange juice while you’re at it,” he calls out when hears the fridge being opened.

Soon Leo gets back and flops on the other side of the couch, banana on the other hand, remote on the other.

“Did you bring the juice?” Cristiano asks, wondering if Leo just forgot or--

Leo gnaws his lower lip. “Hm? Sorry, I didn’t know.” He seems somehow off.

“Hard game, huh?”

Leo just nods. He keeps rolling the banana in his hands, not opening it. His lips are bitten again.

“You played well,” Cristiano says then, because it’s true. No matter that they didn’t win. Leo makes a noncommittal sound in his throat and opens the TV and, what else would be coming than another replay from the game.

Cristiano rips his gaze form the TV screen, from the bright picture of Leo’s legs wrapped around Suarez’ waist. Of the pale thighs that were exposed because the shorts had got ridden up. Of the hands that were holding Leo up under his thighs. Hands that are too close the round ass.

“Are they always that much over you?” he asks before he thinks it through.

And okay, yeah – it’s nothing. It’s a fucking celebration; Cristiano’s seen wilder things, so he curses how his voice comes out a little bitter. “They do that often?”

“What?” And fuck, Leo sounds so sincerely confused.

So Cristiano just decides to play it off. “I don’t know,” he says teasingly, “Dry hump you in the showers as much as they do on the pitch?”

Leo narrows his eyes. “Can you call it dry humping if you’re in the shower?” he asks then, all serious, as if that was the biggest of all the questions.

Cristiano rolls his eyes. “ _Seriously_ , Leo?”

Leo smiles, eyes flickering back to TV. He watches it a few second before, “They’re my team, Cris. It’s like that, you should know it. You of all the people.” His eyes are dark when he looks at Cristiano again.

“Yeah,” Cristiano says, careful to keep his voice light. “Just be careful before they want the whole hand,” he winks.

Leo shakes his head, smile tugging his lips. "You're like that with your own team, too. And nobody's interested in me like that anyway. And even if they were, I wouldn't let them do anything.” His gaze drops, watching his own thumbs hover over the nubs of the remote. “But they're not, _so_ , you really have nothing to worry about."

Cristiano tilts his head, gaze now sharp at Leo. "You really can't be that naïve,” he says under his breath.

He sets the iPad down and stands up, walking next to the couch where Leo is sitting, dark eyes now completely focused on his movements.

"Do you honestly think that when you bend all over to place the ball or tie your shoelaces, that they're really looking _anything else_ but your ass."

Leo flushes, embarrassed but clearly thinking about his words. Then he shakes his head, trying to sit up. "Come on, Cris. Most of them are straight anyway–,"

Cristiano pushes him back down. “So? Like that’s gonna change anything? They aren’t blind, Leo,” he licks his lips, “But anyway. In games? I do, at least."

"Do what?" Leo blinks up at him and draws his arms closer, leaning back. Maybe it’s a subconscious reflex to try and be smaller. Unnoticeable. Cristiano steps even closer so his knees hit the edge of the couch. Leo spreads his legs a little wider, letting him to stand between them.

"Watch that God’s gift, perfect ass of yours. And I bet that the others do too." He feels so satisfied to see the flush to rise even higher on the pale cheeks. Thank God of his light skin that hides nothing of his embarrassment.

Cristiano leans closer, practically purring. "And I'm willing to bet that there's not a single person in your team that hadn't thought about it."

Leo bites his lower lip into his mouth and Cristiano really wants him to stop him and bruise that mouth himself.

"Thought about what?" Leo finally asks, clearly pondering if he should ask the question or not.

Cristiano licks over his canines. "About bending you over."

There’s a few seconds of silence when Leo blinks up at him, mouth apart. Then lets out a huff of breath (Cristiano’s isn’t sure if it’s laughter or a noise of distress) and tries to stand up again. "That's stupid...” he murmurs under his breath, flush now bright on his cheeks and neck.

Cristiano lets him to stand up this time but takes both of his wrists in hold so Leo can’t move anywhere from between him and the couch. "Well, it's not exactly that I can blame them," he continues with his teasing tone, brushing his nose against Leo’s temple and the side of his face, "You do bend over unnecessary much on the games. Especially on Clásicos, it feels."

Leo shifts against him. His warm breath is tingling over Cristiano’s collarbone. "It's not _unnecessary_ bending. I'm positioning the ball.” The argument is only half-hearted. Quiet.

Cristiano brushes his thumbs over the bones on his wrists before letting go. He gives a little push against Leo’s chest, hard enough for him to stumble backwards and fall back on the couch. "I'm soon positioning you over this couch. And believe me, that won't be unnecessary bending,” he smiles down predatorily.

Leo’s quiet laughter rattles his line of thoughts. Just because _he doesn't expect it_.

“Are you–? I thought you just–,” Leo starts but then hesitates. His eyes are bright and wide, like he had just figured out something vital. “–Cris, are you _really jealous_?" he finally gets out, both amusement and disbelief clear in his soft voice.

No.

Cristiano isn’t jealous.

He’s just frustrated. Because they are always close to Leo. Can touch him, hold him, and talk to him almost whenever they want.They see Leo on the next weekend, when Cristiano can't as he's playing his own game on the other side of the country.

Leo is looking up at Cristiano, mouth curled into a small smile. There's something wicked in the glint of his eyes. _He shouldn't look that pretty_ , Cristiano thinks, as Leo's dimples appear. But he does.

He really, _really_ does.

"Baby," he says lowly as he leans closer, "I don't get jealous."

Leo draws one of his legs up and presses it against his chest. His fingers tap a fast rhythm against the remote in his hands. His body remains taut, muscles on his biceps and stomach tense.

"Oh, really?" Leo asks, tilting his head. "I could have sworn." The teasing tone in his voice is very subtle, but it is there.

The smile Cristiano throws at him is absolutely sinful. "Don't get your hopes up, darling."

He loves the times when Leo gets like this.

Bold.

_Challenging._

"But," he continues, one finger up, "If I ever get jealous – _which I do not_ – you should know one thing." He gets, if possible, even closer so he is practically looming over the smaller man on the couch.

"And what’s that?" Leo asks. His eyes are oddly intense.

Cristiano cups his jaw with other hand, running his fingers along the line of his pale throat. “Don’t get too close.” He lets his nails drag gently against the skin. "You might end up sore," he finishes and feels Leo's throat work under his fingertips.

"I think that I can manage."

Cristiano smirks. There's something under his skin, trying to get loose. Something animalistic. "You do?"

"Yeah,” Leo doesn't break the eye contact. Doesn't even blink. “I do."

Cristiano’s skin is tingling, his every sense urging him to kiss Leo, push him down, _fuck him_ – just break the God damn tension.

He doesn’t.

Instead he forces himself to pull back. “Good,” he says, smirking. He makes sure to casually brush against his own side and drag his shirt up enough to reveal a portion of the muscles in his stomach. It brings him the imminent satisfaction to see that Leo’s eyes divert from his eyes to his middle, even if just for a second.

It’s extremely hard to just walk away from Leo when he is like this. Eyes bright with hunger and body tense with need, wound tight like a string; waiting for Cristiano to unwind him.

It's been a while when Leo had been like this.

There are always two options after the game. Loss or victory, it didn’t matter, Leo only had two essences after the match.

Most of the times he's just exhausted. All blurry edges and soft moans, pliant under Cristiano's touch. Those times Cristiano usually holds him close against his body, pushes into him slowly. Those times Leo gets however Cristiano wants him to, just spreads his legs further apart, gasps into the sheets until Cristiano wrings an orgasm out of his worn out body.

After those times, he falls asleep immediately, leaving it for Cristiano to clean them up. Sometimes Cristiano doesn't, just to watch the thick drops of his own come trickle from Leo's pink, swollen entrance, watch as it slides down to his thighs, messing him up. In the morning Leo hits him with the pillow for letting him sleep in their come, but Cristiano shrugs it off.

But _sometimes_ , sometimes he gets like this, sizzling with wound up energy, body tight, waiting for Cristiano to break him apart.

“I’ll order Chinese,” Cristiano forces himself to say as he turns away, walking towards kitchen, “You want anything?”

No matter how he loves Leo like this, now he wants to make him wait. Wants to strain him to the edge of breaking and tease him until he fucking begs.

Because Cristiano isn’t jealous.

And if he is -- _and just a tiniest bit_ \-- Leo was not supposed to figure it out.

He thinks that Leo won’t answer, offended that he’s left hanging like that. But then, “If it’s not jealousy…then what is it?”

Cristiano stops.

“Maybe I'm just worried about you,” he says slowly, “And your virtue.”

He can practically hear Leo’s smile, "Yeah? Well, maybe I'm worried about your virtue, too."

"You really don't believe that yourself,” he says and turns around.

"You don’t know that."

“Yeah, I do,” Cristiano says, and _fuck it_. He sees himself as a fairly patient person, but this is out of his range. He walks back, eyes narrowed. Leo’s own eyes widen a little and he moves his both hands to grip the couch, as if ready to bolt.

"It's not like they could pin me down easily," Cristiano grins and gets closer to push the smaller man down on the couch. Leo, however, sees where it's going and quickly stumbles on the other end of couch, away from the hands reaching him.

He is just hopping over the arm rest when Cristiano manages to curl his hands around the lithe waist, pulling him backwards.

"Shit," he hears Leo gasps.

The smaller man kicks more speed with his legs, pushing Cristiano back, wrecking his balance. Cristiano grunts and falls backwards on the couch, pulling Leo with him. He manages to hold his grip, even though Leo is fast up on his knees again, trying to wriggle and pull out of the bruising hold around his waist.

But he isn’t strong enough. Leo must realize that soon because he changes tactics then, launching himself back and forward, trying to get separated from Cristiano's firm chest.

And he almost does. Cristiano's fingers are slipping, fumbling and–

He can almost feel the triumph and victory radiating from Leo when he wriggles away from Cristiano’s grip.

 _Too soon, little tiger_ , he thinks as he leaps and yanks Leo back and down.

Breathe leaves Leo's lungs with a gasp when Cristiano pushes him down on his stomach. He tries to get up again but Cristiano pushes him down easily with one hand on his shoulders.

"Cris?" he gasps as his legs are kicked apart and a warm, solid body presses against him.

"It not like they can pin me down like this," Cristiano continues, voice low against Leo’s neck. "Not like you."

"That's not fair. You're bigger."

"Not fair, huh?" Cristiano asks. He trails his hands down on Leo’s sides until he reaches the hem of his shirt. He lets his fingers hover over the stripe of exposed skin. Leo has gone deadly still under him, barely breathing. Waiting for the next move.

Cristiano pushes his palms under the shirt, slides them up against his sides. Leo’s back bows, his breathing now more obscene.

Cristiano smirks and tugs the shirt, pushing it up, rumpling it under Leo’s armpits. "Do you think that they care if it's fair when they could have you like this?" he whispers against the shell of Leo’s ear. He spreads his palms against Leo’s sides, marvels how small the Argentinian actually is between his hands.

Leo writhes against him, tries to crawl away, but Cristiano suspects that it’s more for the sake of fighting it than actually wanting away. He pulls Leo roughly back by his waist, fingers dipping in the hollows if his hipbones.

“It would be _so fucking easy_ , wouldn’t it?” he murmurs, “For them to press you against the shower walls. Or bend you over in the locker rooms.”

Leo makes a small noise in his throat that sounds acutely like Cristiano’s name.

“But it doesn’t matter,” he mouths against the pale skin. His fingers reach Leo’s sweatpants. “Because you love this. You love being fucked.”

Thumbs slip under the elastic waistband. It's a slow, slow pull and Cristiano leaves his pants halfway down, leaving only half of Leo's ass exposed. “You’d probably let them, huh? After one, good game you wouldn’t even try to stop them. Just take it.” The skin is smooth under his hands. “Would you ask for more?” he noses against Leo’s bent neck, something hot and dark coiling inside him as Leo’s body flexes under his.

“No,” Leo whispers against the fabric of the couch, sounding hurt and embarrassed. Hurt because Cristiano is implying that. Embarrassed probably because he’s turned on by the idea, nevertheless.

And now, when Cristiano has thought about it, too…

“Where’s the lube?”

The answer comes without a pause. “My training bag.”

And Cristiano notices it. The small roll of Leo’s hips against the couch.

_It’s too much._

Cristiano pushes himself up and away. He almost stumbles on Leo’s training bag where it's splayed on the floor. _In any other circumstances you would hear about this_ , he thinks as he digs the tube from the side pocket.

“So…your training bag, huh?” he smirks when he gets back. “Why would you keep it there? Are you having a little fun time after the games after all?”

Leo is now sitting on the couch, legs drawn up against his chest. He’s still so tense; eyes deserted from that soft kindness they usually have.

“Why?” he asks, voice sharp with an edge Cristiano has never heard before. “I thought that you wouldn’t mind me having ‘ _fun time_ ’ with myself. Or with them.”

Leo is trying to rile him up, Cristiano knows that.

The words get under his skin anyway.

“Wanna have some fun time with yourself now?” he asks with a forced smile on his face. He swirls the tube between his fingers before throwing it to Leo, who catches is from the air.

Something vulnerable flashes in Leo’s face before his brows knit together again. “Yes.” He sets the lube next to himself carefully and uncurls his legs, places them against the carpet. Then he exhales through his nose and places his hands flat against his lower stomach, fingertips sliding under the elastic band of his pants. He closes his eyes and opens them again, barely moving his hands downwards at all, just playing with the hem.

Cristiano grits his teeth together.

He steps in and grips Leo’s jaw to pull him up to a kiss and Leo moans quietly in it, teeth sharp against his lips. Cristiano is about to push Leo down again, hands demanding on the smaller man’s shoulders.

That’s when Leo lashes out.

Strikes right at Cristiano and tries to bodily push him back. Cristiano fixes a quick hold around Leo's sides; feels the hard muscles shift and the sharp bones underneath them.

He will leave bruises.

Cristiano holds himself back. Lets Leo even to get upper hand, lets himself to be pressed back before grasping Leo's wrists again and pushing him back again. Leo must know that he isn't using his full strength, _he must_.

But it doesn't matter. Because neither of them says it aloud, so it's okay.

Leo’s nails are digging in Cristiano’s biceps and he pushes, fumbling against the older man as he tries to wrestle him down. He tries for a moment but when he doesn’t succeed, when Cristiano doesn’t buckle, he flags. Slumps against Cristiano’s chest and buries his face in his neck, breathing shallowly.

Cristiano wraps his arms around him, pulls him even closer. He almost misses the quiet, wrecked voice - muffled against his shirt, “We could’ve won – we should. _I should_ –,”

Cristiano swallows the lump in his throat and presses a kiss against Leo’s soft hair. “I know, baby,” he whispers against the crown of his head. He knows no one else who takes _a draw_ this heavily.

And he knows that he can say nothing to ease the disappointment. All he can do is take his mind away of it.

Or better, make him lose it entirely.

He drags his nose against the soft hair and drops a few kisses on his jaw. Leo is arching against him by the time Cristiano is kissing his pale throat with teeth and open, wet mouth. His neck starts to ache pretty soon form the way he has to bend down, so he moves on Leo’s mouth, sucking it greedily. Leo is almost climbing up on him, responding to the kisses.

“Cris,” he gasps between the kiss, pushing against Cristiano’s chest, “Cris, wait. Wait. _Let me_ …”

Leo licks his already wet lips and keeps pushing at Cristiano, until he takes the hint and drops on his back. “Off. Get these off,” Leo mumbles with frantic voice, tugging at Cristiano’s pants. His fingers are fumbling when he helps Cristiano to take off his pants and boxers.

Cristiano almost wants to laugh, and maybe he does, low in his chest. He’s not sure.

It’s just too good.

“Leo,” he says. Leo lifts his gaze from the cock that’s so, _so_ close to his lips. Cristiano runs his hands through Leo’s soft hair, over his shoulders and throat. “Go on, baby.”

Something sharp flicks in Leo’s eyes again.

And then he gets down.

Cristiano squeezes his eyes shut and lets his head fall back. He manages to keep the groan in the back of his throat as a hot, wet lips close around him. Leo sucks hard few times, making Cristiano’s toes curl.

Then he backs off.

Makes only light touches, tongue barely touching his aching cock.

“Fucking tease,” Cristiano grunts and is about to move when Leo swallows him down again. So deep he almost gags. It’s still not enough to take all of it but fuck, it’s enough. Cristiano groans and tightens his fingers in the silky hair.

It’s the same again. A few, good sucks and a swirl of tongue before he pulls off.

This time Cristiano lifts himself up to look down at him. Leo's lips are shiny wet with saliva and pre-come. He swallows and then he is up, mouth on Cristiano's, tongues sliding together. He stumbles forward until he is straddling Cristiano.

"Cris, Cris, come on–" Leo's urges, breathy against Cristiano's lips, "Please."

And Cristiano keeps tugging at his clothes, pulling the sweatpants down. He can’t get them down all the way, _can’t even get them to his knees_ because Leo is on top of him. But he gets them down enough to expose the round ass. They aren’t kissing anymore, just breathing wetly in each other’s mouths as their bodies move together.

Leo keeps echoing pleases as he tries to grind down.

And Cristiano wants to let him, wants so much that the need of it burns hot under his skin. But he keeps his hold on Leo’s ass, controls every roll of Leo’s hips. But because he’s weak, he lets his wet cock slide between Leo’s cheeks with every few moves.

“I want it, come on,” Leo breathes and tugs Cristiano’s t-shirt that’s still on him.

Cristiano smirks and bites down on the curve of his jaw. “Oh, I want it, too. Believe me.”

"Cris, please," Leo whispers, low and needy.

And Cristiano knows what he is asking, knows it from the way Leo says his name -- the realization of it hits him like a lighting. Why Leo tried to provoke him. Tried to push him over the edge. And okay, it's not any slow, sweet sex that Leo needs right now, but it isn’t this either.

He gets up and pulls Leo along with him, ignoring Leo’s attempts to push him down again. "No." He cuts in, sharp.

Because Leo is asking _it to hurt_ , asking Cristiano to go like this, without anything, asking him to–

And Cristiano can't.

He can bite and suck Leo's neck until it's raw, can press his fingers hard enough for those pale hips to bruise, can kiss him until his lips are swollen. He can fuck Leo hard enough that he limps in the bathroom. But not this.

Can't hurt him like this.

"Cris, I can–" Leo says against his throat.

"No. You can't."

Leo doesn’t say anything, but instead bites Cristiano’s neck and wraps his fingers around the base of his cock. Cristiano curses between his teeth but can’t help for thrusting into the ring made from Leo’s fingers.

“Good try, baby,” he grunts and slides his hands around Leo to the swell of his ass, where the pants are halfway down – and pulls. Leo’s hands leave his cock and fly up to Cristiano’s shoulders, reflexively to steady out as he’s dragged flush against the older man.

Leo inhales, hands tightening when Cristiano rolls their hips together. The fabric is little rough against his cock but the outline of Leo’s hard on pressing against his own is just _too good._

“Trust me. I know what you need.” Leo doesn’t relax against him but nods anyway, so Cristiano pulls away.

Leo looks as damn desperate as Cristiano feels; eyes glassy and cheeks red. His still shirt is rumpled up and under his armpits, sweatpants low as ever, exposing every inch of between.

“Clothes off,” Cristiano breathes and rips his own t-shirt finally off. Leo doesn’t even get to get his own away when Cristiano is against him again, tugging the clothes off of his small frame, hands and mouth roaming the pale skin. He trips Leo on the couch to pull the pants off.

“I love you. I love you _so fucking much_ ,” Cristiano murmurs against his lips as he pushes Leo on his back. This time Leo lets him, too far gone by now.

“You too,” Leo whispers as he’s pushed down.

Cristiano fishes the lube from somewhere between the cushions and popping it open. He kinda wants to tease Leo a little more. To press against the pink rim and not slip in until Leo threatens to kick Cristiano out and do it himself.

 _Other time_ , he thinks, as he presses one long finger inside and watches Leo’s eyes flutter close, hips rising a little up. He pushes the second in right the way. Leo gasps quietly at the stretch but doesn’t pull away.

“Would you let them to do this?” Cristiano asks, when he adds the third finger. And Leo – Leo just looks at him with blurry eyes.

“What?” And then; “No.”

He presses his fingers as deep as he gets, drinking up every sound that gets past Leo’s lips like he has never tasted anything sweeter. “And what if I wanted them to?”

He’s not sure that Leo hears him, so focused on the fingers moving inside him, rolling his hips against them. Cristiano continues anyway, “If I wanted to watch? I bet that there aren’t many that would say no, huh? Who wouldn’t happily eat you out until you can’t breathe anymore.”

Fuck, _he wants to see that_. So much that he almost feels a little obsessive. He wants to see the whole picture; how Leo moves against another body, how he fucks himself back against someone’s tongue or fingers. It doesn’t matter.

Cristiano slips his fingers out and flips Leo on his stomach again but this pulls him up so he’s on his knees. He feels like he's on fire, thoughts hazy and slipping away as he spreads Leo’s cheeks apart, nudging his cock against the slick entrance. His fingers keep slipping against the skin, wet with lube.

He pushes in with one, steady slide to the hilt.

Leo makes a little choked sound – maybe a sob – and his back arches like a fucking bow. Cristiano keeps one hand curled around Leo’s hip and splays other one wide against the curve of his lower back. He can’t wait, can’t hold on, _not anymore_. He starts moving immediately with deep, slow thrust.

It’s a someplace between heaven and hell. The way Leo’s inner muscles clench around him every time he slides out, trying to keep him inside.

"Keep still," Cristiano grunts. And Leo – well, he doesn't.

Instead he keeps grinding back against Cristiano, starts writhing in his arms. He can't see Leo's face but he's sure that the smaller man is smiling.

He takes a hold of Leo's hair and pulls him carefully up, stretching his neck. Leo's breath comes out in pants. "Stay still." Cristiano says again with a low voice.

Leo wriggles his hips, pushing back again and it's really _fucking hot_ , except that it fucks Cristiano's rhythm completely.

"Fine," he almost growls.

He slides his other hand under Leo's stomach and pulls him up and against his own chest, so Leo is sitting on Cristiano’s thighs, completely seated on his cock. Leo lets out a wounded noise in his throat, but still tries to spread his thighs even more, slide even further down on the throbbing cock inside him. His blunt nails are digging on Cristiano’s arms where it's still around Leo's waist.

"You want to be in control? Fine. You're in charge."

It takes a moment for Leo to realize that, no; Cristiano isn't going to do _anything_.

So he begins to flex his thighs. Drags himself slowly up and drops back on Cristiano's cock. And he is so fucking incredibly tight; his hot insides dragging against Cristiano’s cock as Leo lifts himself up and down. He does that a couple of times before falling into more natural rhythm, hips rolling smooth circles instead of actually pulling up.

Cristiano has to use all of his strength for not to just let go and _wreck him._

It’s until Leo sits fully down again, clenching around Cristiano and -- that’s it.

He pushes Leo forward again, presses his face against the cushions, ass up. "Yes, yes, yes, Cris come on, fuck me, _fuck m_ –" Leo's babbling ends to an inexcusably dirty groan as Cristiano slams inside again.

This time Leo doesn't move – he doesn't have strength to push back. Or maybe he's just finally listening Cristiano's words. Either way, he stays still, just braces himself, hands squeezing the cushions as he takes every ruthless thrust of Cristiano's hips.

He grips Leo’s hips, bruiseing against the bones there, pulls him back to meet his own hips. Leo doesn’t even moan, just gasps in and out, barely managing to breath.

But it’s not enough.

Cristiano lifts Leo’s hips up, sliding a little deeper this time and – Leo arches under him, his low moan breaking in the middle and tightening Cristiano's stomach with hot, burning need. Leo’s first reaction is to pull away, and Cristiano lets him. Hovers his hands over the bruised hips and waits for Leo to push back.

And he does; seeking the feeling again, trying to reach the stars behind his eyes again.

“I want – I want…” Leo gasps, sweat pooling down on his neck as he moves back again. Cristiano stills his hips and starts to fuck him harder with deep, steady thrusts. Far more steadier than he feels.

He knows that he keeps hitting the right spot because is a mess under him.

The way he keeps squirming, trying to push closer, trying to get away, breath leaving his body with every thrust – it’s too much. But _not quite enough_ , too.

Until it is.

Leo comes with Cristiano’s name fumbling between his lips.

His whole body tightens and his spine and toes curling while Cristiano keeps fucking him through it.

It’s hard, so fucking incredibly hard, but he pulls out of Leo and maneuvers him around on his back. Leo gasps in shallowly, flat chest heaving. His hand is trembling when he trails it against Cristiano’s chest.

Cristiano takes a hold of it and presses the palm again his lips. Leo blinks up, breathing through his lips.

It’s easy to see the difference now. How his whole body has relaxed; the few cringes on his forehead finally smoothed away. The come on his stomach has already smeared across his skin, probably on the couch, too.

“You still on the ride?” Cristiano asks, voice rough as he grips the underside of Leo’s knees, spreading them apart and over his arms.

“Stupid questions…” Leo mumbles hazily, small smile on his lips. Cristiano smirks too and dips down to kiss the bitten lips again.

It’s always as heavenly experience to sink into Leo, feel how he opens up for Cristiano’s cock, tight and slick and hot. Leo’s gasps are hot in his ear as he quickens his pace almost immediately, control long gone. He gets erratic and desperate, hands pressing hard against the pale skin, slipping. Few times Leo arches against him, moan slipping from his throat as Cristiano hits his sweet spot once in a while.

“Fuck, Leo,” he grunts.

It’s a few rough thrusts and Cristiano hips still and he gasps as he spills inside Leo. It’s an intense one, orgasm washing through his body like a giant wave. He keeps grinding against Leo's ass, riding out his orgasm.

He collapses on top of Leo, panting. When he moves to pull out, Leo makes a quiet whine and pulls him down again, lips seeking a kiss. Cristiano gives it to him and lets Leo’s legs drop down but the small man wraps them around his waist immediately.

“Aren’t you cold?” Cristiano asks.

Leo hums a no, already drifting into a sleep. Cristiano rolls his eyes and covers the smaller body with his own as well as he can anyway. There’s a deep ache in his bones, but it’s a good one. _Satisfying_.

He thinks about pulling out, getting up, carrying Leo into a shower and then to the bed.

It remains a thought because his body betrays him and he falls asleep to the steady rise and fall of Leo’s narrow chest under his.

 

**+**

 

“We ruined it. But if there's anything good, it’s a black couch. So...you can't really see anything.”

“I can’t wait for Ramos to sit here so I can tell him about _it_.”

“You’re evil.”

“I’m the evilest evil, yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> What the fuck I'm doing? I don't even know anymore.
> 
> I'm sorry for the mistakes (because there are some, I know).
> 
> I got a little frustrated while writing this because I couldn't get the characterization (and so many other things) right - so, now I'm just giving in.
> 
> I hope you like it anyway :) Just ignore my grumping here--


End file.
